Mediator of the Dead
by Sally B. Mcgill
Summary: Fanfic where Miguel's trip gave him more than just memories. Due to his toeing the line between life and death, he's now connected to the Land of the Dead. While this means he can go see his deceased family whenever he desires, it also means he now has more responsibilities than any normal teenage boy should.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I love the fact that Miguel managed to change things in the Land of the Dead, but it's like they ended it with just the adventure. I just felt like it shouldn't end like this. So I made Miguel have a connection with death now. Hopefully, this hasn't been done before. Please review and favorite/follow.**

 **1\. The First One's Always the Hardest**

…

When the dreams had first started about a week after he had returned to the Land of the Living, Miguel had brushed them aside as his brain processing all the wonder and trauma of his adventure in the Land of the Dead.

Most of his dreams were about things he had seen and been therefore pretty docile in comparison to what could be: Chicharrón disappearing to the Final Death, Ernesto sentencing him to be trapped in the cenote to die, being hurdled off the building of Ernesto's show and plummeting to his doom. Some were about things he didn't really know about but figured he had unconsciously noticed, like some Alebrije being born or a few remote sections in the realm of the dead. It was weird having dreams like that, but the young Rivera had dismissed it all as nothing more than his imagination running wild. He was sure anyone else who had experienced what he did on the trip would be dreaming of similar things.

Miguel didn't really worry about his dreams all that much until they abruptly became nightmares. Of not just things in the realm of the dead but in that of the living too. The boy's dreams were riddled with death, people literally being stabbed in the back, some with kids dying of incurable illnesses, mamás or papás dying in their sleep, like his own Mamá Coco had, or of heart attacks and other causes. Basically, all his dreams (now turned nightmares) were of people dying from both natural causes, and it concerned about every form of death. Scary things he had heard of and knew existed but never actually seen firsthand. Until now.

Since six months ago, when he had his adventure to the realm of the dead, come back with the truth of his family and the knowledge about Ernesto's deeds and exposed the fact to his family and the world, Miguel had wondered about Héctor and the rest of his deceased family, but had also tried to put it all behind him. He was among the living again, and it was time he acted like it until his time really came.

Besides little preparations for Día De Los Muertos and the skull guitar that had formally hung in Ernesto's museum but now belonged to him, the young boy had no other interactions with the revelations and reminders of the trip to the Land of the Dead. And, although he missed his family from beyond the grave, he was okay with just living his life and continuing to grow to be who he had always wanted to be: a musician.

But then the dreams had started a month after he had made his decision, grabbing his attention with its dark but realistic themes and refusing to let him focus on anything else. Nowadays he would only get about three hours of sleep before spending the rest of the night in his hideout on the roof, playing his guitar and desperately trying to dispel his fear of all the things that lurked and would go bump in the night. More than a few times, he was caught by elders in his family and told to go back to bed. But the bags under his eyes still grew darker and darker.

His parents were worried about him, always trading looks when he would explain one of his dreams to the family after a particularly bad night. His cousins, Rosa and Abel, liked to make fun of him being scared of the way the world worked.

"You're the one who found out our great-great-grandfather was murdered. Natural deaths and others just like it aren't that big of a deal. I can't believe what a baby you're being about it." Rosa had said mockingly to him one morning. Unfortunately for her, Abuelita had walked by while she was goading him and had sentenced her to clean the yard for the next two weeks. Miguel had been a little too in-his-own-head to relish the fact his condescending cousin had gotten her just desserts.

It was making the young Rivera anxious the more the dreams came. Some were graphic, showcasing every drop of blood that left the body and the full agony just moments before death occurred, while a fewer set was only brief glances of the individuals as they took their last breath. It made him more than a little paranoid of what sleep would bring, unsure of how to stop the nightmares or what could be causing them in the first place.

However, it didn't become a serious issue for him until about three weeks after they had grown more horrific. The previous night Miguel had dreamt about a woman being run over a bus. In the dream, it had been dark and painful to see what was what, so while he saw silhouettes of the scene, he could see what either the lady or the bus looked like. Although it had freaked him out a little when he thought he had seen a glance of the sign signaling Mariachi Plaza as well as a glance at the woman's profile. He had also noticed a lavender bag that had been dropped with the name "Mamá Esperanza" stitched on it.

The young Rivera would have locked the nightmare away in the little vault rescinding in his head labeled "Don't think about. Ever" with the rest of his fantasies if he hadn't run into that same lady as he was heading home to lunch. No, really, he ran into her. He had been rushing back when he had slammed into a surprisingly sturdy someone, knocking himself down on his bottom.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was—" And then Miguel had noticed the bag he had knocked from her hand, lavender and with the name on it. He had shakingly looked up to see the same lady he had only glanced at in his dream: Smooth olive skin, tall stature, warm brown eyes with thick braided dark hair and a large blue sunhat. She was dressed in a purple dress and staring at him with a friendly smile but also looked surprised at being bumped into. Miguel's heart had slowed once he noted how she seemed very healthy and well, so unlike someone who had been run over. Perhaps he had noticed her before, and his dreams had warped it into a horrific scene. The young Rivera clung to that explanation with great hope, for it had to mean his dreams were triggered by people he had seen if only briefly.

"It's quite alright, young man," Esperanza had said softly, accepting her bag back from Miguel. "I wasn't looking where I was going either. If it's not too much trouble, would you please show me to the public cemetery in this village?" Miguel, full of massive relief to have solid proof his dreams were just that, was all too happy to lead the way to the lady's destination.

They had walked a few feet past the entrance of the graveyard when Miguel had no longer heard her footsteps behind him. Turning to see where she was and confirm their current location, Miguel greeted by a great surprise. The lady was in front of the entrance, glowing an orange color, not unlike how the skeletons burned when they had been in the living world. Then he watched in horror as her skin seemed to blow away, showcasing her bones beneath and her bag became transparent with tire marks on it.

Miguel had yelled, tripping over his feet as he scrambled backward till his back hit a tombstone, hyperventilating as he tried desperately to convince himself this wasn't real. This was just another nightmare. He'd wake up soon, he would. He only had to remember that fact, and he would be okay like he always was.

The now literally bony Esperanza had shot him a sad smile, drifting to his direction and crouching down, so they were eye-to-eye. The lady had studied him with grave curiosity, seeming to grow more and more melancholy by the minute. "I've heard of people like you, the ones who've earned the gift rather than been born with it. I do not envy you, young champion, for you have had a terrible fate thrush upon you. I didn't realize I was your first." Here the lady shook her head, looking quite agitated. "You poor child. Don't despair too much. What haunts you now will soon be ameliorated. I wish you luck and hope to meet you again someday." Then she had stood up and melted away right in front of him, probably to the Land of the Dead. Miguel had sat there for hours before the local watchman had come by to send him home. He had barely swayed his way down the streets and through the front door of his house before he had fallen to the floor in a crumpled heap and remained in a shock-induced catatonic state.

The days were a blur after that, sometimes he would have enough awareness to see members of his family huddled by his bed, arguing and commenting about how cold he was or how weak he looked or whether or not they should take him to the hospital or have a doctor make a house call. Miguel had fallen in and out of sleep, too tired after so many sleepless nights to make sense of anything. Not his current condition, not the incident involving Mamá Esperanza, not anything.

When Miguel had finally woken up again with the same level of consciousness and wellness as he had before his meeting with the dead lady, it was nighttime. None of his family was by his bed, so they much have all gone to bed, meaning it was very late at night or early morning. As he stretched his limbs and turned to face his room, he found himself staring into the big and intense eyes of his Xoloitzcuintli dog and spirit guide.

"Dante?" Miguel asked aloud with confusion. The boy hadn't seen his beloved pet in the seven months he's been back in the Land of the Living. The young Rivera had assumed his Alebrije had made a new home in the realm of the dead, only to come back on Día De Los Muertos. "What are you doing here, boy?"

The boy noticed almost immediately that Dante looked very much like a mutt on a mission, no happy panting or frantic lickings or playing of any kind. The dog grabbed the helm of his white undershirt with his teeth and tugged insistently, apparently trying to lead him somewhere. The behavior was just like when he had decided to stop him from seeing Ernesto.

"You want me to follow you?"Miguel questioned as he slipped out from under the bed sheets and put on his red with white stripes hoodie. Dante merely gave a small whine before leaving the room, apparently expecting the kid to follow him. The Rivera supported him, even as he pondered how exactly Dante was able to sneak into the house to see him and why his dog was acting so strange. Putting on his black homemade boots, Miguel tip-toed after Dante, taking care to avoid creaking the floor and alerting his family of his leaving.

He came down the stairs to see his dog by the door, somehow scrapping at the door without making a sound. Quietly opening the door to let Dante through it back outside, Miguel followed him, carefully closing the door after him.

The first thing the boy noticed when he turned around was the bright marigold petals on the floor. They looked just like the ones that appeared when he had been cursed. They were arranged in a path, leading from his house and down the street. Miguel saw Dante was sitting on the petals a little way in front of him.

"Should I follow the marigold?" Miguel asked the spirit guide. Rather than answer (not that the boy really expected one, of course), his Alebrije moved down the path. Deciding to follow him if only to make sense of any of this, the young Rivera followed after him.

The glowing petals took them all the way past his home, around Mariachi Plaza, and through the public graveyard where he had first discovered the bridge between the two realms. The streets were completely empty, which was strange to the Rivera who knew people tended to work round-the-clock in a few sections of town. It was like his whole village was dead asleep, oblivious to the happenings going on while the moon shone high in the sky.

Miguel could only gasp as the two made it to the edge of the cemetery, where a thin bridge of marigold petals was erected. If Miguel squinted, he could just make out the many lights that the Land of the Dead exhibited.

"Dante, I don't understand. Have I been cursed again? Is that what these dreams are about?" The boy questioned. His dog only whined, moving to grab the sleeve of his sweater with his teeth and insistently pulling him towards the other land. After one last look at his village, the young Rivera moved forward.

When they had made it to the other side of the bridge, Miguel could see rather than it leading to the Department of Family Reunions station, but to a large stone room that he could only really see because of the bright marigold petals. The dog moved until he was next to the entrance and then stopped and looked expectantly at him. The Rivera could see the unmistakable message here: He was meant to go alone from here on. Whatever that place lead to, Dante could not go with him.

Although he was severely confused and anxious about the somber mood of his usually cheerful dog and the fact that he can access some part of the Land of the Dead despite not having done anything to be cursed this time around, Miguel decided to just take the chance. The Xolo hadn't steered him wrong before, so the boy doubted that was happening now. Without any hesitation, he walked through the doorway to the stone room.

It was a large room, almost as big as Ernesto's old mausoleum had been. As he walked in, candles lit from somewhere above, showcasing the place to reveal a set of podiums that reached about halfway to the ceiling and a large black book. The front of it had white writing on it in a language Miguel couldn't understand.

Just as he was growing uneasy, a slight breeze blew through the room, billowing his hair and clothes quite quickly. He closed his eyes with the intent to protect his sight, but when he opened them again, he could see the podiums now held gray hooded figures, all standing and looking down on him.

"Miguel Rivera," One particularly overbearing looking fellow, declared loudly from his position adjacent the kid. "We've been expecting you."

…

 **So, I wrote this after I started working on the one-shot for Coco, but I figured I just post it first and then focus on the word spew I had for an author's note for the one-shot fanfiction. Next chapter will have Imelda and Héctor, as well as some shocking truths about Miguel. Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Responsibilities and Second Tests

 **A/N: Okay, first, LOVE the feedback I've been getting, I don't think any of my previous stories have gotten so many followers so fast. I thank everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed this story. So, I'm back after simultaneously working on updates for my multi-chapter stories and having new ideas pop into my head at random about basically every movie or TV show I like (curse my imagination!). This is also while trying to finish college, so forgive me for taking so long to get back to this particular story.**

 **Now, the council before the Leaders of the Soul is loosely based on the leaders of the dead in the Book of Life, basically, higher-ups that commandeer the realm and make decisions concerning the deceased. Just put a spin on the crucial members. Hope you like.**

…

Imelda Rivera had heard about the situations that required individual members of families in the Land of the Dead to be summoned. It was mostly involving sensitive issues, like orphans who don't know their parents or another family, or even when disputing conflicts between mixed families that couldn't agree on who belonged where. You know, significant things that required people with more authority and objective opinion on what constituted as right or wrong.

Sometimes it concerned mundane or minor complaints: The house was too small, the food needed to be better, some people shouldn't mix (as you could guess, most of the whining were from those who were used to getting more than what they needed). Everyone request was heard and fulfilled unless the things being asked for were unreasonable or just plain impossible.

As far as she had known, families like hers never needed a summon. They were all complete, their living family members remembered them, and they were very content in the living space they were in. So you could imagine her surprise when a member of the Department of Family Reunions arrived to personally summon her and her husband.

It had been a beautiful day in the Land of the Dead. The sky wasn't blue there, but rather an assortment of gray, purple and green that somehow complimented each other in a way that made the atmosphere above worth looking at for an extended period of time. The sun had come out, illuminating the town in a pretty glow and prompting all the skeletons to come out and see the new day ahead of them. And the Rivera family was no exception.

In the marble two-story cottage they all lived in, Imelda rolled over as she slowly left sleep, opening her eyes to see her handsome husband, snoring into his pillow. The great-great-grandmother couldn't help the warm smile that spread across her face as she stared at her unconscious husband. Héctor was never meant to be a part of their lives again after his betrayal. As far as she had known, he had left his wife and child and had never looked back.

Then Miguel had been cursed, and the truth about what had happened had come out. How her husband died trying to go back to her. How Ernesto had done it just because he was desperate to be someone he was and didn't deserve to be. How her poor, poor husband had died before he had even turned thirty, and had been forced to pay for mistakes he had unintentionally made.

Imelda had wanted to forget about him and that had been accomplished for a while. Coco, of course, had still loved her father, but everyone else in the family had just known him as "that man." The one who would forever be dead to the Rivera because he chose music over his loved ones. Now she knew it wasn't indeed his fault and couldn't blame him or disregard him any longer.

So he lived in the Rivera house now, with new clothes and appearance that made him look less like a bum. The Land of the Dead had a sort of caste system, you see. Those who were famous in the living world lived in fancy mansions and had many properties and food to spare. Those with prominent families were second to them, living in abundance and never wanting for anything. The ones who were remembered but were in a small family or just retained by one or two outsiders were residing in reasonable condition with more than enough food to live on, but not a lot of pleasures as the other levels of the system were.

And then, of course, there were the ones who had no family or photos on the ofrenda in the living world. They were the lowest, having just enough to get by, their conditions like that of homeless people who make do with the conditions they can afford. When Imelda had found out that was where Héctor had been all this time, she had immediately snatched him up and brought him back to the Rivera household. And they had all lived comfortably since. Especially Coco, who was just in the room next to theirs, the same snoring as her father's being heard loud and clear.

Like father, like daughter, it would seem.

Just as Imelda was ready to get out of bed and make breakfast without disturbing Héctor, a loud knocking boomed through the house, alerting her husband out of sleep and off the bed. "Huh, wha? Who's drumming?"

His wife would have laughed at her beloved disheveled state, but she was little distracted by the fact that someone had come to bother them in such a rude way. Mumbling to herself, the skeleton quickly got out of bed and grabbed a robe to put on. "Don't worry, Héctor. I'll take care of it."

Her husband scratched his head sleepily, nodding as she leaned over so they could share a kiss. "I'll be right behind you. Let me just wash the sleep from my eyes." Then he headed towards the bathroom.

Imelda could only shake her head and smile at his antics before she moved to address the person knocking at their door so urgently. The mama opened the door to see the stout man from the Department of Family Reunions, the one who had addressed their problems when Miguel came.

"Ah, good morning, senora! Hope I'm not coming at a bad time." The man asked, nervously pushing his glasses up as he stood before her with his hands folded in his back.

"What are you doing here?" Imelda asked point blank, not willing to be buttered up. She could hear her husband coming up from behind her and place a hand on her shoulder. "Why are you bothering our family at this time?"

"Well, um, it would seem you and your husband have been summoned to meet the Leaders of the Soul, senora."

Imelda wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she could feel Héctor tense behind her, voice serious as he asked, "Wait, Leaders of the Soul? Why would they want to see us?"

"I'm just doing my job, senor. I was told to bring the heads of the Rivera family, and that's what I've done. They expect you two at their office in about thirty minutes. Do please try to come on time, my bosses don't like to be kept waiting." And then he scurried away.

Imelda turned to face her husband, who had a severe look on his face. "Who are these people? I've heard about a summons for things in here, but I don't see a reason why we would be called now. Do you?" She walked as Héctor was lost in thought for a few moments.

"I don't know a valid reason, but I can tell if they're calling both of us for a meeting, something big and serious is going down. We have to get there soon." Taking her husband's words into consideration, Imelda nodded to herself before saying, "Okay then, let's go."

…

So after getting dressed and saying goodbye to each and every member of their family, the couple went on their way, Imelda dressed in her purple dress and Héctor in his standard blue vest with black pants and a straw hat. They had been ambling in silence for most of the trip, but eventually, the wife got curious about something. " I couldn't help but notice you knew exactly what that man meant when he said Leaders of the Soul. I've never heard of them, so how did you?"

Héctor was quiet for a few moments before he answered, "They summoned me after you turned me away. They always personally meet with those who have no family who will claim them or photos on people's ofrendas. Tell them face-to-face, so they better understand the situation and stay in their section." Here her husband shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

Imelda felt familiar guilt as well as confusion at the explanation. "But you kept leaving your section. You always tried to cross the bridge and make me understand. Why—" Why hadn't her husband done as he was told? Why keep trying even when the officials said him so?

"I suppose I was too optimistic to get with the program like everyone else. Although they preferred the term 'desperate.'" His wife could think of no good response to that, so they walked the rest of the way without a sound. It was when they could see the darkroom up ahead that Héctor confirmed was the Leaders of the Soul's command center that she thought of another question to ask.

"What could they want with us? Do you think it's about you and Ernesto?"

"Ah, who knows what those downers are calling us about? They deal with every significant matter, and a few insignificant ones too. We won't know what it's about until we go inside though." By now they were directly in front of the doorway, looking at each other as they struggled to make a decision.

Then Imelda sighed deeply. "Well, we were summoned. Might as well see what all the fuss is about?"

And so the married couple moved passed the door to the great unknown.

…

The first thing Héctor noticed was the podium that was housing the seven members of the Leaders of the Soul. All dressed in the same dark hooded outfits like a bunch of gothic weirdoes. Always making sure they towered over you to remind the people they addressed how much they mattered in comparison. The next thing he noticed was a black-haired boy with chocolate skin and dressed in a red sweater and pants facing away from them. It took him less than a minute to recognize who he was.

"Miguel?" The great-great-grandpa asked, shocked as the boy turned to see him, a look of equal surprise and relief on his face.

"Papá Héctor! Mamá Imelda!" The young Rivera shouted, rushing forward to hug them both. "Miguel, what are you doing here? How did you even end up back in the Land of the Dead?"

"Dante brought me here," Miguel explained as he pulled away from his great-great-grandparents, who noticed the dark circles around his eyes and that he seemed tired. "They said they'd explain what was going on when you two showed up."

"What _is_ going on?" Imelda demandingly asked as she stepped forward while Héctor remained by Miguel. "Why have you brought my grandson here? What is this all about?"

"How about you all take a seat?" The head hooded figure declared loudly as he swiped his hand up, making a long bench appear beside the Rivera group. "There is much to discuss at this time, Imelda Rivera." After the three family members traded looks, they all sat down, Miguel seated in the middle of his grandparents.

"Is Miguel cursed again? Why is he here with you all?" Héctor questioned from his position to the right of Miguel. Rather than answer the inquisition, the head council member simply said, "Before we get to the reason why your great-great-grandson is here, perhaps we should start with an introduction and history lesson?"

Then, as though the suggestion had been a signal, the room became completely dark. Then candles lit around the room, showcasing the members above in an eerie light.

"Long ago, before anyone was aware the Land of the Dead even existed, there were three leading members who ruled over the two worlds. The one of those who were remembered and the one where those poor souls who were forgotten ended up. They also would influence the living world as well, sometimes helping mankind as well as harming it. And for a while, the world continued turning with these circumstances. However, a day would come when one of the members, the one who saw mankind as wicked as himself, decreed that it was the time we paid our debt to the world for what we were. He wanted himself and the other member, who was a female and also his eternal love, along with their friend to rest. Let the humans do their part now. A wager was set, and the male over won fair and square. So, it was decreed that a select few members would be chosen throughout the land to be the Leaders of the Soul, members that would have order over what is right and what is wrong."

The one beside the lead member spoke up then. "Over the years we seven had been individually chosen to be members of such council, and we've done what we needed to ensure the wellbeing and optimal condition of the Land of the Dead and its citizens. But one vital thing was needed to complete our little group. We needed not just someone to decide right and wrong, but a… bridge, so to speak, someone who can toe the line of the living and the dead, someone who can help those who have passed to be where they belong and to help those who make it into this world clueless and unsure. We need a medium, a person to act as a direct link for the people in both the land of the living and the dead, should he be needed."

"That's a great story and all, but that still doesn't explain why we're here!" Imelda screamed while Héctor had a bad feeling where this conversation was going. One glance at his grandson's fearful face told him he had come to the same conclusion.

The lead member answered Imelda smoothly, "Both your husband and great-great-grandson have figured out what we're saying. You three are here because we've chosen Miguel to be our mediator. To act as a guide and bridge for the living and dead concerning matters of death and being forgotten."

"But why?" Héctor yelled while Miguel seemed to have gone into shock. "Why of all people are you choosing him?"

"Because he's earned it, Héctor Rivera. Not just by the things he did in the Land of the Dead, but what he managed to accomplish in the Land of the Living. Not only did he manage to prevent a killer and fraud from continuing to deceive the people, but he also managed to prevent you from being forgotten. Took every action to prevent it, did he not, even at the expanse of his own life."

"What?! No, we sent Miguel back before he could die. He went back still living!" Imelda argued vehemently.

"No. He did die on top of that building when the sun came up. Did you truly believe someone who had stayed long enough for the sun to rise would face no repercussions? He had died. But we let him go anyway, let him have his chance to save your husband from being forgotten. And he succeeded. And that, Riveras, was his first test. Or at least part of it."

"Test? For what?" Miguel finally spoke up, voice sounding strangled as he talked.

"Do you truly think you were picked just like that? We have all undergone several tests to prove we are worthy of the position we've earned. Exposing Ernesto helped the people in the Land of the Dead more than you think, but it's wasn't enough. You also had to help a member of the dead from the land of the living. And you did that. In fact, you helped two."

The boy stiffened from his position in between his great-great-grandparents, "Esperanza."

The lead member nodded, voice soft as she spoke. "She is one of those poor people who was born with their gift. She could sense the supernatural effect within people. She was actively searching for you when you ran into each other. And you helped her move on."

"But, that was an accident. She asked me to help her find the cemetery, and I did!" The kid protested vehemently.

"You were aware she had passed. You saw her get hit by a bus yourself. You may not have fully realized what you were doing, but you did do it. And now you must accept what you've been chosen to do."

"This isn't fair! You're all standing up there, forcing a child to become a soldier for your cause. Who do you think you are to make such decisions like that? Why must Miguel make such a sacrifice for you?" Imelda demanded angrily. There was a moment of silence among the members as they seem to look to one another in silent conversing.

Then, as if on cue, every member dropped their hoods to reveal their faces. The Riveras could only gape at the identity of the group above. They were all alive. Every single one of them wasn't a skeleton, instead had flesh and hair that was stuck to their skulls.

They weren't the same age, of course. Imelda could spot two elderly members to the side, a man, and women, while the rest ranged from the periods of late or early adulthood. The only one who looked to be a teenager was the head member, who looked as young as Miguel did, only she was a girl. A pretty one with silver hair with a blue streak and light brown skin and sharp features. Another thing to note was that they all seemed to be of Mexican heritage.

"You… you're all—" Miguel was saying, shocking making him unable to finish his words as he looked at at the council. The girl answered the obvious question being asked. "We are the Leaders of the Soul. And yes, we are living and dead. All of us, from young to old."

"But… what… I mean how," Héctor prepared to ask, but then the girl raised her hand in a halting motion. Despite her age, the man couldn't help but stop himself from obeying her. "We all needed to make sacrifices to do what we had to. We don't make a decision like these lightly, as we all know what damage we are inflicting on those who earn their positions. But this is the way things must be, for the sake of the realms of the living and the dead. As unfair as this is, it must be the way things are."

The two great-great-grandparents shared a sad look as Miguel bowed his head, face shocked and eyes wide as he tried desperately to stay calm. Eventually, Imelda spoke up, voice subdued, "You mentioned tests. He completed the first one, yes? What is the next thing Miguel must do."

The girl turned to face her, something resembling sympathy now on her face. "Yes. This is actually concerning his dreams about death. He needs to accept his powers so he can establish control and be able to focus on his job without it overwhelming him. And to do that, he must visit the Crystal."

Héctor spoke up then, sounding more confused than despaired at the mysterious term. "The 'Crystal'?"

"Yes. It acts as a focal point for us, a way to diminish our power, so we have time to gain some discipline over our abilities. As we grow more skill, it gives our power back little by little until we can handle it. It's right in this room actually." The girl waved her hand, and a sudden trap door appeared in front of the Riveras.

She gestured to Miguel, who was looking at the door with a blank expression. "After you, Miguel Rivera."

"Hey, hold up. If chamaco is going down some dark and creepy place, then so am I!" Héctor yelled, getting to his feet indignantly. Imelda followed suit, looking just as determined. The girl turned her attention back to the young Rivera, "It's really up to the chosen if he should have chaperones or not."

Miguel seemed to stare into space for a few moments, and then he nodded, his gaze never leaving the door he must go through.

The girl sighed, tone somewhat disappointed. "Very well. Then good luck, Riveras. You will need it."

…

 **So, here is the end of chapter two. Sorry, it took so long, was focused on my other stories and new ones I had been working on for a while. If you have time, check them out, I just published my 22nd story this morning. It's an RWBY Rosegarden fanfiction called "Of Serendipity and Duties of the Huntsmen." I will be working to update my other fanfictions now before I publish some new ones I'm working on now. Until then, feel free to review, favorite and follow.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Meeting the Crystal and the Final Test

 **A/N: Hey, so I managed to post this along with my update for one of my Ninja Turtles stories, so I hope you all check that out along with my Penn Zero one-shot. Please forgive me for not getting back to this sooner, I don't have a lot of internet available and I tend to get an idea of how the story will go in my mind but am unable to put it into words lest I really think about it.**

 **But on the bright side, two updates, yay! Hope you like.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Coco or any of the characters. Enjoy.**

...

They ended up walking a long way. The stairs were winding, lit dimly by unseeable means that allowed them to see the steps directly in front of them but not what awaited them below or around them.

The whole journey down was filled with an awkward, deafening silence, the tension so thick it could only be cut with a serrated knife. Even their shoes didn't dare make any noise, despite their steady steps down stone-hard stairs.

The whole time Héctor couldn't take his eyes off his great-great grandson's back. Since the boy had begun leading the way down the underground place, he hadn't done anything but walk with his head slumped downward and his shoulders hunched. He looked very much like someone thrust into a responsibility he was no way ready for. Which he wasn't.

Beside him, Imelda looked quite worried, unable to stop staring at her grandson as well. His silent profile was alarming her as well.

Once again, Héctor couldn't stop cursing those Leaders of the Soul. How could they expect such a sacrifice from someone so young so callously? Despite their assurance that the decision had not been made lightly and that they have all gone through what Miguel was currently going through, it didn't change facts. After all, if they were all forced into such burdens, why would they force someone else to go bare it?

They had said it was necessary. They were chosen, after all. This was undeniable, unfathomable but undeniable. No matter how much they wanted it to be otherwise, Miguel was here, after weeks of suffering dreams of people dying and with powers he was just now discovering he had. They couldn't change that, no matter how much Héctor wished he could.

"Héctor? You've stopped moving." The man was startled out of his thoughts by his wife's surprisingly soft voice. She was looking at him, understanding and sadness in her eyes. Miguel was still in front of them, body half-turned and head facing them. His face was blank and dull. No shine in his eyes or warmth in his face. It was so foreign from how Miguel was the last time he visited the Land of the Dead, it was all Héctor could do not to say anything. Like curse the bigwigs above.

Instead, he shook his head and said, "I'm fine." And they all started walking again.

Eventually, after maybe another five or ten minutes of walking, the trio could see an illuminating light emitting from a room located at the bottom of the stairs. When they passed the last step, it seemed so bright it took a moment for their eyes to adjust.

After their vision was clear, they could see the room and what was occupying it. The actual room looked more like a field outside, paved streets leading from the doorway they stood in to several other doors. The place where the ceiling should be looked more like a star-filled night sky, small burst of lights scattered all about like lanterns.

"What is this place?" Imelda asked aloud with wonder in her voice as she reached up to one of the balls of light. It floated upward gently, similar to a balloon in a soft breeze. But what was most captivating about the room and almost immediately caught all their attention, was the patch of grass in the middle of the room with a small pedestal on it. It was currently housing a floating big, black crystal. It was about Miguel's height, shaped like a thin, knife-shaped diamond.

"This must be the Crystal the Leader of the Soul was talking about," Héctor commented, wanting to examine the thing up close for some reason he couldn't explain. However, he found he couldn't move past the pavement onto the grass. Distracting himself from his confusing impulse and circumstances, the great, great grandfather nudged Miguel slightly, "What do you think of it, chamaco?"

After a few moments of no response whatsoever, the man put a hand on Miguel's shoulder. "Miguel?"

Still no answer. He and Imelda shared a look of confused worry before Héctor moved in front of the boy, kneeling with his back until he was maintaining eye contact. "Chamaco?"

Miguel's eyes were dazed, like he wasn't present at all. His entire stance was fixed solely on the crystal, as though he was thoroughly hypnotized by it. Nothing could distract him from it, not waving their hands in front of his face, not yelling his name loudly in his ears, not even slapping his cheeks (a last resort suggested by a panicking Imelda). What was happening?

No sooner than when the worried question entered their minds did the glow in the room grow even brighter. And Miguel began walking forward mechanically, like a puppet with its strings being pulled.

"Miguel," Imelda screamed in alarm, trying to follow after him and continue trying to wake him up only to abruptly come to a stop mid-step, as though something was physically forcing her back. "Miguel?!"

Héctor did his best to get to his great great grandson, but he too was repelled by some invisible barrier instead. The two could only watch helplessly as the young boy moved closer and closer to the crystal. Then, when he was less than a foot away, he came to a sudden halt.

For a short moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly but surely, Miguel brought his right hand forward, reaching out to what was in front of him.

"Miguel!" Imelda yelled, desperate now in the face of Miguel's continued unresponsive movements. Besides her, Héctor shouted, "Chamaco, what are you doing? Stop, you don't know what'll happen! But the warnings were falling on unhearing ears. It was like nothing else but the crystal existed for Miguel. The two could only watch with bated breath (figuratively speaking, of course, since they didn't need air or to even breathe anymore) as the young Rivera's pointer and middle finger made contact with the side of the diamond.

The response was instantaneous. A shockwave emitted, spreading near and far as the lights grew too bright to see anything. Air flew all about, spreading and scattering papers and dirt that appeared suddenly. The two skeleton Riveras flew back against the wall and could only cover their eyes as the debris and light became too much, a tremendous force seemingly to shake not just the room but throughout the whole Land of the Dead.

And then, it was quiet. The couple slowly opened their eyes and got to their feet to see the room was completely dark, only the balls of light, now much dimmer, offering any way to see. There was no mess or signs of disturbance despite the previous reaction to Miguel's touch. But what made their hearts stop (another figurative speaking) was Miguel, face down on the floor, almost unnaturally still.

"Miguel!" They yelled, rushing forward to check on their fallen great, great grandson, both too focused on their task to be surprised that they were no longer being held back. Imelda knelt by him, shaking him gently while softly calling his name while Héctor stood over them both, eyes never leaving the boy's lifeless body.

More than a little frantic at the boy's lack of response, Imelda carefully turned him over, noting with alarm how cold the boy felt against her bone fingers. When he had been previously cursed, his body temperature had been that of a normal degree, maybe even slightly warmer, indicating the life still flowing through him. To feel such a drastic change now was filling her with barely controlled anxiety.

When she moved him to her lap, she finally took a glance at his face and gasped at what she saw. Down the middle of the boy's hair was a streak as white as chalk. Or as white as their bony selves. On the center of his forehead was a fading mark she couldn't recognize but caused a drop in her stomach anyway. The bags under his eyes and sickly paleness of his skin had improved significantly, but he seemed changed somehow. Her worry was rapidly increasing.

Just then, Miguel groaned, slightly squeezing his eyes before slowly opening them, a dazed look in his glowing eyes. And they were glowing, like there were two moons instead of pupils. But, after a quick blink, they were brown and normal again.

"Oh, thank goodness," she praised, stroking the boy's head as he focused on her.

"Mama Imelda?" He asked, sounding thoroughly confused to be seeing her. "What happened?"

"Oh, Miguel," his grandma replied solemnly, relief saturating her voice as she brushed a bit of his hair from his still too-cold face. "You collapsed after touching that crystal. Are you okay?"

The young Rivera blinked, assessing himself in the limited light by cautiously sitting up and examining his arms and legs. "Actually, I feel fine. Better than I have in weeks." He announced, sounding quite like he couldn't believe it. His two great great grandparents shared a look before Héctor responded, "Well, I suppose that's comforting."

After helping the boy to his feet, they scrutinized him, noting how he seemed to glow just slightly. Miguel was too busy looking into a nearby slab of glass on the wall to notice. "How am I going to explain this to the rest of my family?" he moaned aloud, turning to them in the hopes they had a solid excuse for him.

Once again the two grandparents shared a look before turning apologetically back to their nephew. "Sorry, chamaco," Héctor stated with a sad smile. "We've got nothing."

Miguel groaned, covering his face with his hands and harshly breathing out. "Perfect."

Imelda pointedly cleared her throat, getting the two male Riveras' attention. "If we've finished what we came here for, might we please get back up? The sooner we finish our business with those leaders, the better."

That brought every up, the reminder of the unfairness and burden Miguel was going through. Nodding resolutely, they made their way back upstairs.

...

"You've done it," The girl breathed out once Miguel came into view. The rest of the members were silently watching with varying degrees of approval, concern and somber resolve.

"It's not as though you gave me a choice." Miguel countered grimly, staring up at them defiantly. The girl shrugged, still looking partly surprised, "Some people follow their destiny. Most run away from it. It takes a truly courageous person to follow the path laid out for them. So, thank you, Miguel Rivera."

"And how do you feel?" One of the elderly questioned, concern in her voice. The boy in question could only shuffle his feet and frown at his shoes, fists clenched at his sides. He was better, but a particularly difficult part of him didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing something good came out of the situation he was stuck in. Imelda saved him from answering by stepping forward. "What happens now? Now that he has control, what will happen now?"

"Now, it's time for his third and final test. He has suffered a near death and helped a newly departed individual move to where they were meant to be, after which he helped preserve a man being wrongly forgotten. He has touched the Crystal and been accepted, his abilities now his to discover, master and control. And now is time for the most crucial step to becoming the mediator."

The three Riveras leaned closer, dreading what would be required of Miguel to finish something he never had a choice in starting in the first place. The girl studied their faces for a moment before gravely continuing, "You must find the one called Ernesto de la Cruz and take him to the Land of the Final Death."

...

 **And finally! Here's chapter 3. So sorry this took so long, I've been in such a funk as of late and the fact that I'm rushing to start school so I can have something productive in my life leaves me with less free time than I used to have.**

 **This was actually going to be longer, but I decided to give you guys something, so here. After really thinking about it, the cliffhanger seemed like the perfect place to stop. Have a nice day.**


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